Reverie

In an early morning reverie
I drifted in a dream -
It seemed I walked with Raleigh and his scallop-shell,
Or heard long-forgotten pleadings of Dowland’s lute.

Or, like the little dog who accompanies the enigmatic lady of a subtle
Unicorn tapestry -
I kept a watchful eye on impossibly feathered birds.
My nostrils flared, inhaling the exotic perfume of pomegranates and lilies.

What world is this?
The realm of poetry’s fine mist -
The entrance to the garden of the heart, open to those who have first
endured the whims and taunts of the moon, at last rewarded by her sympathies?

How did I arrive within the walls of this labyrinth of roses?
When long I believed that I was the Courtier with keys,
Who approaching the girdle of Time, found the keys did not fit!
Is it Grace who spilled a drop of precious wine upon my brow, teasing my eyes,
Open wide to Love’s glory?
Or am I simply some fortunate wanderer who pitied by Providence, is taken in?
As one would open the door of a warm home-place -
To a sweet and gentle orphan child, who begs with a plaintive plea, relief from
the Winter’s wrath outside?